Everyone Can Be A Good Person
by CRichwine
Summary: Frisk resets after yet another genocide run, and realizes the fun has worn off. He begins to wonder what the results of a pacifist run would be. It would at least have some surprises. (This is my first ever fic, and it's like, a year old, so my writing will have improved with newer chapters.)
1. It Smelled Like Decisions and Memories

Frisk sat in his SAVE file, contemplating quietly. The voice in his head, Chara, who he could only describe as his 'narrator', was silent. She wasn't much, just the ghost of the first Fallen Child who had latched their semi-conscious being onto his DETERMINATION. Chara simply gave him stats and reminded him to, as always, 'Stay determined!'. She offered advice and tips, as well, though he rarely acknowledged them. At the start of the run, she would remind him that there was a perfectly good MERCY button, and that monsters were great once you got to know them. But Frisk just ignored her, and occasionally told her to shut up.

He figured she was just biased towards them, seeing as she was raised by the creatures. But how could he spare them, when he had the beautiful power to SAVE and RESET? He could start it all over and over and over again, a clean slate. But he always killed them. He enjoyed the horrified looks on their faces when they died. It was a real kicker.

In every run, however, about halfway through, Chara would stop trying to convince him. She even ended up encouraging him, and when he faltered (he had to admit, even he had some doubts now and then) she stepped in and made him commit the gristly acts herself. He supposed that by then his attitude was rubbing off on her.

But here he sat, alone in his file, thinking. Just finally stopping for a moment to let his thoughts wander. And Frisk realized. Exactly how much fun was genocide when he knew how they'd react to dying every time?

Even Sans, who had been a surprise at first with his different speeches and mannerisms after his every killing (which was unusual), was becoming predictable. After fighting him countless times, in countless timelines, Frisk had his attacks memorized and his speeches etched in his brain. And he had RESET again, after the fun had ended and Chara once again killed him and destroyed the world (he knew know that it was because she was angry at him for having them kill all of her friends and then never wanting to finish the job. Frisk had never chosen to end the world himself, as even his conscience could not imagine doing something that bad).

He killed Toriel. But instead of going to meet Sans for the millionth time, he reset. Again. And again. And again. Always after Toriel's death.

And he began to wonder. What if I spared them? What would happen then? What would be the outcome? How would Sans react?

He was always interesting. He knew Sans was dimly aware of his abilities, and of the carnage he had reaped before. But what if he greeted him, the poster child of pacifism? He'd suspect something was off, but who really cared about what Sans thought? He was just another breakable toy in Frisk's toy box.

Frisk stood and stretched. He frowned slightly, hand hovering over the RESET button. Was he really going to try and befriend those worthless monsters? At least, he reasoned, it'd be better than having to befriend a legion of humans. After how his parents had treated him, he had had a certain spot in his heart reserved for the hatred of humanity. As far as he could tell, Chara had had some similar experiences, perhaps worse. All he really knew was that her fall hadn't been an accident, but a jump of despair.

He shook his head to clear it. Yes, he would be a good child, dot his I's and cross his T's, learn by heart his A B C's. Bestow hugs and kisses and all of that nasty crap.

Frisk smirked. Only eleven and as heartless as any adult. He took a breath before pressing the button.

As it all faded to black, he heard a small voice in the back of his head, this time seemingly addressing itself.

'The thought of your friends getting their happy ending fills you with DETERMINATION. . .'


	2. It Smelled Like Golden Flowers and Fur

Frisk trudged up the mountain, heart heavy. His parents had been fighting again, and he had needed to get out of the house. He had an... interesting relationship. Did they hate him? Maybe. They certainly didn't care for him, or each other. Apparently Frisk was just a dummy to them, something to yell at when they were tired of fighting themselves.

The constant screaming and sometimes physical fighting of his parents took its inevitable toll, leaving Frisk emotionally and mentally drained very often. He took refuge from it whenever he could, which wasn't very often, by taking long walks in the wilderness, and today he went farther than he ever had. He had decided to climb Mount Ebott.

Many residents in Ebottville claimed that the mountain was cursed, and no one who climbed it returned. Frisk wasn't the superstitious type, but even then, he supposed leaving his bleak home forever couldn't be too bad. He just hoped death wasn't involved. He never liked to dwell on that.

This time, however, Frisk let his mind wander. He knew what would happen. No matter what, his fall was one thing he could never change. It was a constant variable, and always happened in the exact same way. It was strange, being conscious but not in control of his body.

He took his lunch break in a large, cool cave. He was about halfway up the mountain by now. Something that quickly grabbed his attention was a large hole in the middle of the floor. Burning with curiosity, he stepped forward carefully.

The deep, dark hole seemed endless. It just went on and on. He wondered how many people had fallen down there and never gotten out. Perhaps this was what had spawned those rumors.

He knew that it was dangerous to be this close, but there was something morbidly fascinating about it. He leaned in a bit closer, and...

The sickening feeling of vertigo took over him as he realized suddenly that this hole could very well end up being his demise, and he stumbled back quickly, heart pounding. But his boot caught on a tangle of roots and he tripped, earth shifting beneath him. And he fell forward and was falling,

falling,

falling.

The darkness seemed to almost consume him as he fell for what seemed to be an eternity. He briefly thought that as long as he didn't think about what would happen when he finally hit the bottom, it wasn't exactly the worst way to go.

Still falling. He couldn't see the ground below him yet.

He was sure that this was how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, he giggled. He loved that book, and he had read it almost every day when he was still allowed trips to the library. But when the fights increased, he was forced to stay at home whenever there wasn't school. His parents needed someone to yell at besides each other, he supposed angrily.

Still falling.

And then suddenly a brown and yellow blur rushed up to meet him, and everything went black.

Frisk groaned as he sat up in the life saving flower bed. Glad that was over with. No matter how many times he fell, it still hurt. Going through the motions, he took a small Band-Aid out of the satchel that had held his lunch a short while ago. The food, however had fallen out and been ruined. As usual. Slapping the bandage on a small scrape, he stood up and stretched. Chara's voice would invade his mind, once again, very soon. The flower bed rested on her grave, after all, and she had enough consciousness to be awoken by Frisk' incredible DETERMINATION.

'3, 2, 1.' He thought to himself. And as he reached one, a small, familiar voice appeared in the back of his head.

'Well, dummy? Get a move on!'

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. So shut your trap, Chara." Frisk murmured out loud.

''So, you've decided to take the goody-two shoes route! Good for you. Though I think I might miss seeing you get your ass whupped by Sans. Especially because of what you did to everyone.' Chara said, voice full of venom.

'Yeah, yeah, you hate my guts for killing your friends. Whatever. Aren't you glad I'm sparing 'em this time around, though? Cause if you ain't I can always go back..'

' No!' she said firmly, and Frisk could hear the desperation in her voice. Though she seemed blunt and rude, she cared very deeply for those who showed her kindness. Which was her weakness. 'Just go and meet Flowey! Besides, aren't you hungry? The sooner you get to Mo...Toriel, the sooner you'll get food.'

Frisk had to admit he was hungry. And while he had never spent enough time with Toriel to get emotionally attached to her, he knew she made some pretty darn good butterscotch cinnamon pie.

He walked through the little cavern into which he had fallen, carefully making his way through the large flower bed. He didn't have to walk far before he came to an ornate doorway, and he continued on.

On the other side was, as usual, Flowey. Proof that you couldn't trust anyone. Flowey was part of the reason Frisk didn't spare people. If this flower could be so friendly and then try to murder him within a matter of seconds, who's to say that all the other monsters weren't just pretending as well?

'They're not...' Chara whispered quietly. Frisk ignored her.

He walked up to Flowey and didn't even bother to look surprised. The little yellow flower smirked slightly before giving him a cheery grin. They both knew they were just humoring each other, as they both knew what would happen by heart. But it had to be done to some degree if it were a True Reset.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey, Flowey the Flower!" The plant announced in his false, sickly sweet voice.

"You're new to the Underground, aren't'cha? Golly, you must be so confused! Someone ought to teach you how things work around here, and I guess little ol' me will have to do!"

"Aw, you're too kind." Frisk said, a hint of sarcasm barely detectable in his quiet voice. Flowey grinned even wider as he initiated the FIGHT.

"See that heart?" Flowey asked as Frisk's SOUL appeared on his chest. "That's your SOUL, the very culmination of your being!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Let's just get this over with."

Flowey smiled maliciously as he skipped his little speech, quickly abandoning his 'cute plant' act.

Without warning, a dozen 'friendliness pellets' were summoned and fired at Frisk rapidly. To his dismay, he was too slow in dodging one, and winced in pain as the bullet struck his arm, the glowing red SOUL on his chest flickering for a moment.

Suddenly, the bullets surrounded him. Frisk wasn't worried, though.

"You IDIOT!" Flowey screeched, his face morphing into a horrifying skeletal mask. The bullets came in, closer and closer until...

He saw Flowey draw back in confusion as the bullets hit Frisk and healed him. Playing along nicely. The only way to tell that Flowey knew what was about to happen was the fact that he braced himself quickly before the fireball hit him and ripped his roots straight out of the ground. He went flying off into the darkness, but Frisk knew he wasn't dead. He'd just burrow underneath the earth and be back.

His gaze was drawn to the large goat monster as she stepped into view. Though he'd seen her many times, he was always amazed by her regal beauty. Her purple robe swished around her, and her clean white fur was neatly brushed.

"What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth." She said in her kind, motherly voice. Frisk almost smirked at the word 'innocent', but remembered that he was playing the role of a frightened, friendly child. He paused at that. How exactly was he supposed to do that, he wondered now that he was in the middle of all of this again. He had very dead looking eyes, devoid of compassion, and circles under them that were too dark for any child.

He gave a small smile, knowing that it must look almost like a grimace on his usually emotionless face, but Toriel quickly smiled back, her face beaming with warmth, but there was also a hint of... sadness?

{Toriel's POV}

She looked over the child in front of her. He looked around ten or eleven, definitely one of the youngest children who had ever fallen down. His dark brown eyes were empty looking, and he looked very tired. His light brown skin was slightly ashy, and his hair (also brown) was matted.

He smiled at her, or tried to, but it was like his face didn't know how to arrange itself, and it didn't quite reach his eyes. Toriel's heart twinged with sadness. What had this child been through to make him like this? Her mind unwillingly wandered towards her own child, who had been treated horribly on the surface. It had been so bad that she had resorted to trying to...no, she wouldn't dwell on her deceased child. Deceased...children.

She shook her head slightly and smiled back as warmly as she could.

"Greetings. My name is Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins."

{Frisk's POV}

He nodded as she spoke the familiar greeting, and he couldn't help but long for a mother who spoke to him that kindly.

'See?' Chara whispered. 'She could be your new mom now.'

Frisk had been through this many times before, simply blocking out Toriel's kind words. before, he hadn't wanted to show any signs of weakness. But he supposed he could this time

.As Frisk opened his cold, hard heart to emotion for the first time in forever, he felt like crying. Someone who had just met him showing him what was, as far as he knew, genuine love?

He didn't cry, but when he smiled again it seemed a bit more natural.

"Thank you for saving me." He said in his cold, quiet voice. But it wasn't as cold as before.

The goat monster smiled at him again.

This was going to be a long run, he thought to himself, already emotionally drained from the few moments of happiness. It had been so much easier when he didn't feel anything.

Oh well.

He'd go back to being a heartless killer after his 'happy' run.


	3. It Smelled Like Froggits and Fire

Frisk hadn't paid much attention as Toriel guided him through the ruins yet again. He knew how it went, and he spent the time contemplating his decision.

He did jump slightly, however, when she gently held his hand in hers.

"Here, my child, let me guide you through this puzzle. It is too dangerous, I think, for you to attempt alone."

And so they went, making quite the odd party; a tall, motherly (but regal-looking) goat monster, reaching to almost six feet tall, and a small human boy, barely at five feet. Toriel slowed her gait to allow Frisk to keep up with her, and even then she was pulling him along slightly. Frisk was astonished by the sudden physical contact, that this woman trusted him without another word. He was sure that his conscience improving, as were his heart and ability to love, he could feel it grow as he spent more time with 'Goat Mom', as Chara lovingly called her. However, he still had trust issues, and he felt that it would be long before they would solved.

Nonetheless, he responded by gripping her warm paw with his little, cold hand and trotting alongside her. He knew that he could be off of his guard around Toriel, at the very least. Besides, the Ruins got pretty chilly. (Frisk didn't feel like giving Chara the satisfaction of admitting that thus far he was actually rather glad he had chosen this route; he could be rather petty, when he felt like it.)

'So, Frisk, how's it feeling so far, not murdering people?' Chara asked in a curiously rude voice. 'Must feel weird, not being a piece of-' 'I GET it, Chara!' Frisk retaliated. 'Don't antagonize me. I can always restart.'

'But you won't,' Chara replied in a knowing voice. She sounded almost sad. 'I wish I was still alive. Mom would still hold my hand like that. I guess you never realized Frisk. Once someone loves you as though you're a part of their family, it's feels like one of the best things that could ever happen to you. And when you lose it...'

She broke off then and remained silent. Frisk didn't try to push the conversation.

But it made him grip that paw a little tighter.

Soon, Toriel and Frisk were through the dangerous trap (a maze of spikes, which even Frisk found slightly barbaric) and walking through yet another long, purplish hallway (yippee). Frisk suddenly heard a rustle to his left, however, and turned quickly to see what it was. And saw a frog monster leap aggressively at him.

Frisk leaped nimbly out of the way just before the Froggit bowled into him. Frisk turned to face it, sizing it up, ready to attack, when Chara's voice resounded in his head.

'Cut it out!' she shouted, making Frisk reel with vertigo as spots danced before his eyes. He didn't know she could get that loud. 'Did you forget, or are you just stupid? We're being good this round!'

Frisk dropped his arms as he remembered the purpose of the run. The Froggit pounced once again, and for one of the first times in his short life, Frisk felt a wave of terror. He brought his arms up in front of his face and screeched; he'd been attacked, even killed before, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

He waited for the blow to land, but when nothing happened he slowly brought his arms down. Toriel stood in front of him, guarding him from the monster. In one hand danced a small fireball; a beautifully dangerous thing, glowing with orange and blue light.

"Get away from my child," she growled fiercely. Frisk shifted his position and stared at her in awe. He could see her eyes now, burning with anger and the flames of her fire. Her love, her fear for Frisk's safety, and her intense anger was so raw that he could almost feel the emotions roll off of her.

The Froggit seemed to be frozen in place, terrified. "Final warning." snarled the goat monster.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then the Froggit slunk off into the shadows, almost whimpering. Frisk wondered for a moment if Toriel would've actually hurt it.

Toriel closed her hand, extinguishing the flame. She turned to Frisk, and he started when he saw that she was close to tears. She dropped to her knees and grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

Frisk sank into the warm embrace, shuddering. He wondered if he would cry as well.

"M'fine," he mumbled into her gown. "Thank you. I thought..." He shivered again.

'Be more careful, dummy,' Chara said, and for once Frisk was glad of her company, albeit strange. 'No promises.' Frisk whispered back. He could almost feel her smile.

He was soon brought back to the physical world, however, when Toriel broke away from the hug. Frisk thought it had ended too soon. Oh well. Now he just wanted to get to Tori's house and rest.

Going back to killing them all would be MUCH harder than he'd thought.


	4. If You Love Me Let Me Go

Frisk was tired. His legs ached, and his eyelids began to droop. He probably would've jumped for joy upon reaching Toriel's home, had he had the energy to do so.

He had almost forgotten how long it took to navigate the Ruins, and couldn't wait to get a slice of butterscotch cinnamon pie. And some sleep.

"Here we are, my child." Toriel announced as she led him into her abode. The home was warm and cozy, and a distinct scent of cinnamon wafted through the air. The comfortable aura only served to make him more sleepy, however, and Toriel noticed.

"You must be tired, Frisk. Why don't you go and take a nap? There will still be pie waiting for you when you awake." The goat monster gave him a kind smile, nudging him down a hallway.

"You may take this bedroom." She told him, pointing at the first door along the length of the hall. Frisk murmured his thanks, and entered the room.

The bed was made, with not a wrinkle in the sheets, but dust lay on the covers. This room hadn't been inhabited in a long time. Having been in the home countless times before, he knew now that it had been the room of Chara and her brother, Asriel. He felt the presence of Chara slip away from him as he walked towards the bed. She always grew very quiet when he was in this room, and he definitely understood why. There were just too many memories.

Dragging his heavy limbs along, he tumbled into bed, burrowing under the covers. He was not only physically tired, but mentally, as well. It had been a long time since he had allowed so many emotions to form in a single day. He could swear that if a monster didn't kill him, the exhaustion and unfamiliar ache of empathy certainly would.

Frisk cleared his thoughts, an action that he had become particularly good at, and drifted off to sleep.

Normally, he slept dreamlessly, but when he awoke he was aware of a strange sensation, almost similar to the feeling one got when they had just finished watching a pleasant film. He felt calm and safe, but the memory of his dream slipped away quickly, like water trickling through his fingers. It made him feel heavy, burdened. After a moment, he identified the once very familiar (too familiar) feeling. The loss of comfort made him feel depressed.

He slid out of bed, fatigue lifted, but still feeling weighed down.

Frisk's spirits lifted, however, at the sight of a plate in the middle of the plush rug. On it was a generous slice of butterscotch cinnamon pie, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was ravenous. Slipping to the floor, he grabbed the plate and fork, shoveling the scrumptious pastry into his mouth. Remembering himself, he forced himself to slow down, so as to not overwhelm his shrunken stomach and vomit.

It was a difficult feat.

Once Frisk was finished, he set the dish on the dresser, mentally thanking Toriel for her kindness. He let his gaze roam throughout the room, and his eyes lingered on two things; an empty picture frame, and a toy chest.

He assumed that the frame had once held a photo of Chara and her adopted sibling, and that the toy chest was theirs. Curious, he approached the box. Maybe there were some interesting trinkets inside.

The moment his fingertips touched the lid of the trunk, he felt Chara's consciousness bolt back like a bullet to the head. He staggered, blinded for a moment. Her voice boomed into his head, deafening him in comparison to the lucid quiet of a moment ago. It cancelled out everything in his head, except for one thought, and that thought was hers.

Those aren't yours.

The girl's voice was cold and deadly.

Frisk felt like his brain would explode. The only coherent thought he could form at the moment was one of pure panic: she wouldn't hesitate to do that to me. And she certainly could if she wanted to.

But her presence was gone as quickly as it had come, retreating to a corner of their shared mind, curled up like a wounded animal. Reaching out with his thoughts in trepidation, he could feel waves of sadness and possessiveness rolling off of her. His self-preservation kicked in, and he backed off, leaving her to brood. He quickly left the bedroom without so much as looking at the toy-chest.

Once he was in the hallway, he could feel her relax a little bit. With a glance into the living room, he could see Toriel sitting in her armchair, reading. He decided not to bother her, instead choosing to look around the rest of the home. Before doing so, he took a moment to approach a glowing yellow star in the entryway of the home, hovering around a foot or so off of the floor. Unless one had access to the abilities of saving, loading, and resetting, it would not be visible. He placed his palm against it. It was warm to the touch.

'The feeling of home fills you with determination.' A voice whispered. Chara. Without her SOUL, Frisk doubted that he would have the abilities that he did. The world seemed to stop for a moment, and when it started again, he knew that he would reappear here if he died. Which was bound to happen, sooner or later.

He then headed back down the hallway.

The first door he opened led into Toriel's room. Frisk had never been inside before, but he quickly realized that he hadn't missed out on much. He wandered throughout the room, inspecting everything. It was laid out in much the same way that the children's room was, but the bed was significantly bigger.

Out of curiosity, he opened the first drawer of her dresser. Nothing but socks. As he closed it, he felt Chara come back.

'How scandalous.' She murmured cheekily. Frisk smirked despite himself. He was still a bit nervous of his partner's newfound temper, and he knew that she was putting up a facade to avoid questioning. As though Frisk would risk it. He wasn't stupid. He had started this pacifist run, and was actually enjoying it, though he wouldn't admit it to Chara; this meant that he couldn't exactly threaten her with much upon her finding out, which meant she could be a lot more protective of herself and the things she considered hers.

He found nothing of interest and left the room, heading further down the hallway. The next door he tried was locked. He frowned at it, as though that would shame the door into opening.

The hallway was a dead end, with nothing but a vase of water sausages and a mirror at the end.

'The plants have a name, y'know.' Chara said, regarding the former. He knew she didn't care, really; she just enjoyed making him look stupid.

'Yes, they do.' He replied. 'And it's water sausages.' He then proceeded to ignore her next thought, which undoubtedly contained the actual name of the weird looking plants.  
In order to do so, he became overly interested in his reflection, which stared back at him in the mirror. Although he was not normally very interested in his own appearance, he drank the sight in. He hadn't, he realized, seen his own appearance in a long time, and it intrigued him.

His brown eyes, ever so cold and calculating, were rather brighter than he had ever remembered them being, and there was a noticeable difference in his posture. He was slouching much less than normal.

'Look! It's you!' Chara called in mock excitement, having noticed his abnormal interest in the mirror. This time, however, he could see her say it. In the mirror, a figure slightly taller than his stood next to him. She appeared grainy and transparent, but visible nonetheless.

Chara was practically the polar opposite of him, not only in personality, but in looks as well. She had bright red, almost orange, hair, curled and frizzy, falling to her shoulders, and her skin was pale, though her cheeks were flushed and dotted with freckles.

The girl was also fatter than he, having lived in a decent home with three decent meals a day. She wasn't overweight, however; if anything, Frisk was underweight. But standing next to her made it look like one of him and one and a half of her. Despite this, Chara's cheeks were shadowed and sunken, dark circles lingered under her eyes, and her hair was distinctly dead looking, like straw.

Death had not been kind to the appearance of her soul.

Both children stood, enraptured by their reflections; Frisk avoided mirrors for a reason, so that others would not see Chara, and despite her mockery of the boy, she was as interested in her own image. Two pairs of eyes, one a light brown, the other a dark red, both equally dull, roved hungrily over the glass. Their reasons were anything but vanity, because once they were finished inspecting the mirror, they were unsatisfied with what they saw. A skinny boy, ratty and unnervingly blank, and a corpse-like facsimile of a girl with eyes that could only be described as nearing demonic.

They turned away.

The hallway was, they decided, a much better view. So they went back.

Frisk entered the living room, approaching Toriel. She wore reading glasses, and she was most definitely a better sight than what the mirror had provided, with her regal and motherly air. She greeted him warmly.

"Did you sleep well, my child?" She inquired, gazing at the boy over the frames of her glasses.

Frisk sat on the hearth next to her chair, looking up at her. "Yes." He replied. "Thank you for the pie, by the way. And everything, really."

The goat monster's smile grew, and she reached down to ruffle the boy's hair. "Of course!"

The two sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"What are you reading?" There was no title on the cover, so Frisk couldn't simply read it off of the book.

"72 Uses For Snails."

She continued reading, and Frisk wrinkled his nose a bit, hoping that those uses didn't involve cooking.

Frisk began to doze, comfortable on the rug. At some point Toriel reached down and held his hand softly. He tucked his knees in and leaned against her leg, resting his head on her knee. They sat like that for the better part of an hour before Chara's thoughts once again caught his attention. For once, she sounded oddly reluctant, and once she started speaking, he understood why.

'Frisk. I know this is nice, but...we can't stay here. We have to continue on.'

Sighing through his nostrils, Frisk shot her the mental equivalent of a glare.

'And why is that? This run will still count if I stay. Wouldn't you be happier here?' He argued.

'Like hell I would!' She snorted. 'The whole house is doing nothing but make me upset.'

'And,' she continued. 'We both know you'll get bored soon enough. Of everything. There's nothing down here that'll keep you happy for long. You'll kill someone, anyone, just for the thrill of it. And you'll try and justify it by saying that nobody'll miss 'em. And then that's all you'll be able to do. Because really, who'll miss anybody if everyone's too busy being dead to care?'

Frisk shivered at her words. He wanted to argue, retort, anything, but he couldn't because he knew she was right. Even with the progress he had made, he would, inevitably, grow bored of his surroundings. He had to leave, keep himself busy. And then maybe someday he'd reach the point where he wouldn't have to.

But he stayed silent. He didn't want to.

Finally, he caved. 'Okay.' He murmured.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he stood. Toriel looked at him expectantly.

"I need to exit the Ruins." He announced.

Immediately, her face fell, but she tried to hide it with a pleasant smile.

"But...my child, why ever would you want to do that? You have everything you need here! Sit back down. Here! Here's an interesting snail fact. Did you know that some snails-"

"I need to exit the Ruins." He said it louder this time.

"-some snails will flip their digestive systems as they mature?" She continued, also raising her voice.

"I need to exit the Ruins." His voice was decisive and firm, and he moved towards the door. Before he could go into the entryway and go down the stairs, Toriel stood quickly. Her expression was one of sadness and anger. She breezed past him.

"Stay here. There is something I must do." And she disappeared down the staircase. Frisk quickly followed, struggling to keep up with her much longer legs. "Go upstairs!" She called behind her shoulder, picking up her pace. She was almost jogging now, and with Frisk, there was no "almost" about it. His skinny legs began to burn as he overexerted himself for the second time that day.

The chase continued down a dark hall, around twists and turns. Every now and then Toriel would shout a warning to the child behind her, but he never heeded it.

Finally, she stopped at the door leading out of the Ruins. Frisk nearly tripped as he slowed down, gasping for breath.

Toriel faced away from him. Her shoulders shook, and when she spoke, so did her voice.

"Please, my child. Go upstairs. We can be happy together. Please."

Her voice broke.

Defiantly, Frisk stepped forward, and his legs were not the only things hurting as his heart was crushed in the unrelenting grasp of guilt.

But he was determined.

The goat monster turned to him, tears in her eyes. But there was anger there as well.

"This is the end of the Ruins." She gestured to the doorway behind her. "I am going to destroy it. Go to your room."

He stepped forward.

"Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. They come. They leave. They die. You naive child... If you leave the Ruins... They... ASGORE... will kill you. I am only protecting you, do you understand? Go to your room."

He stepped forward.

They were only feet away now.

The monster who had so willingly become a surrogate mother gritted her teeth.

"Fine!" She spat with contempt. "You want to leave so badly? Then prove it. Prove to me that you are strong enough."

She drew herself up, fire dancing to life in the palms of her hands. As she prepared to FIGHT, Frisk desperately tried to remember when he had saved. Before joining Toriel in the living room, right?

He was given no more time to think about it as Toriel created a veritable hailstorm of fire, and his SOUL flickered into being, hanging inches in front of his chest. Nimbly, Frisk twirled and jumped through the flames, dodging as best he could. To a bystander, the monster and the human might as well be engaged in a very deadly ballet.

Skilled though he was at avoiding attacks, he Frisk could not dodge all of them. He took a few superficial hits, causing his SOUL to flicker, and his skin to scream in pain. He was grateful that the magic fire could not ignite him.

The fight went on, and as it did, the boy grew weary. He began to slow and lose balance. As he began to stumble, he noticed the attacks gravitating away from him. He looked at Toriel. Tears streamed from her eyes, and he realized that she didn't want to hurt him, not really. She really was just trying to protect him.

This momentary lapse of concentration cost him, however, as he tripped and fell, right into the path of a fireball. Toriel could not move it in time, and his brain seemed to shut down as his body was overwhelmed with pain. He was aware of a steaming, sizzling hole in his midsection, out of which poured the melted and stewed remains of blood and vital organs, and of the horrified, fearful gaze of his new mother.

He didn't hear her call out to him, or see her rush to his side, nor did he feel the attempts at healing magic that came far too late. The tiniest part of his subconscious, the part that saved and loaded, was aware of these things, but that part of him didn't care.

For he was far too busy being dead.

Frisk entered the living room, approaching Toriel. She wore reading glasses, and she was most definitely a better sight than what the mirror had provided, with her regal and motherly air. She greeted him warmly.

"Did you sleep well, my child?" She inquired, gazing at the boy over the frames of her glasses.

Frisk sat on the hearth next to her chair, looking up at her. "Yes." He replied. "Thank you for the pie, by the way. And everything, really."

The goat monster's smile grew, and she reached down to ruffle the boy's hair. "Of course!"

The two sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"What are you reading?" There was no title on the cover, so Frisk couldn't simply read it off of the book.

"72 Uses For Snails."

She continued reading, and Frisk wrinkled his nose a bit, hoping that those uses didn't involve cooking.

Frisk began to doze, comfortable on the rug. At some point Toriel reached down and held his hand softly. He tucked his knees in and leaned against her leg, resting his head on her knee. They sat like that for the better part of an hour before Chara's thoughts once again caught his attention.

"I need to exit the Ruins." He announced.

"Please, my child. Go upstairs. We can be happy together. Please."

And so it continued.

And so it continued.

And so it-

Frisk stood before the goat monster, bloody and bruised, but alive. Fireballs were still falling, but there were less, and they flew erratically towards any and everything but Frisk. He knew that he had won, but he felt no joy in it. Somehow, this was even harder than killing. But at the same time, so much easier.

Finally, Toriel stopped. She was letting him go. She gripped him in a tight hug, sobbing, but she pulled herself together and said goodbye.

Before he could leave, she called to him.

"My child, once you leave, please, do not come back. I hope you understand."

He could understand. The tears gathering in his eyes said that much. Simply saying goodbye was so hard for her. In that moment, Frisk was glad that she could not remember killing him. He would have to live with the memory of the physical pain, but he knew Toriel would not be able to handle the guilt.

And so he left.

As he walked down the long, purple hallway, he had time to mull over what the goat monster had told him about Asgore, and the barrier. He knew of them, of course, but he had never put much thought into them. Now, he realized, those two things would give him the purpose he needed. Something that would keep him going.

Keep him determined.

He would break the barrier. He would do something to save all of monster kind. It would have to be impossible to do that and still feel the urge to kill.

He hoped.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, and pushed open the heavy door that led to the outside world. He breathed in the cold air, as fresh as it would get in the Underground. The door opened into a forest, snow covered and serene. Frisk sighed, scrubbing the traces of tears from his face. He loved Snowdin.

He made his way down the path in the forest, snow crunching underfoot as he walked to the bridge up ahead. This was nice. No people, no distractions, no noises-

snap

Frisk froze. He turned, seeing only a broken stick. But he certainly hadn't broken it. He braced himself, because he knew who it was, and knew that he would remember him, the cold blooded killer of friend and family. Deciding it best not to confront that particular monster until he was ready to be confronted, Frisk kept walking.

He could hear footsteps behind him now, light, barely audible, but there nonetheless.

He was almost to the bridge when a voice called out to him.

"stop."

The voice was quiet, but deep and serious.

Frisk stopped. The footsteps were closer now. He was shivering. How would he react?

The footsteps stopped. Frisk still didn't move.

"well?" Said the voice. "don't you know how to greet a new pal? turn around and shake my hand."

Slowly, carefully, to prove he was no threat, Frisk turned and grasped the bony, outstretched hand. And quickly tore his arm away as a shock coursed through him. He stood there, stunned, as Sans the skeleton cackled at his own prank.

Frisk rubbed his palm, looking hurt, but he was relieved that the skeleton hadn't done more. In fact, he might've gotten off lucky. Maybe the skeleton didn't remember anything at all!

Sans' laughter petered out, and he looked at Frisk.

"buzzer in the hand trick. gets 'em every time."

His voice was now lighthearted, and the skeleton was grinning from ear to ear, per the norm.

But the lights in his eyes were dim, and he was grinning a bit too much.

"name's sans. sans the skeleton." He introduced himself, and in that moment Frisk knew, that no matter how good Sans was at acting, at pretending he was an idiot for everyone else's sake, he would never

ever

trust Frisk.


End file.
